It's a Fine Life
by ClubhouseFire
Summary: People in unfortunate situations will do everything they can to escape them, even if it means another sad situation. But what happens when people realize salvation is staring them in the face? DodgerOC CharlieOC


****

**So, here we are... This is just something I've had for a while and I thought it was high time I put it up. It actually may have been up before but I think I took it down for some revision. I've been working on it as a bit of a comfort thing so I do have quite a few chapters done (although the story remains rather plotless), I'm just not going to put them all up at once.**

**Disclaimer: Listen up, I only want to say this once. I am not Charles Dickens. I own nothing but my own brain. Which is a pretty scary place.**

* * *

Rain fell like sheets from the dark sky hitting the dirt road like eggs that shattered upon impact. There was little wind to disturb the downpour of the cold water but it wouldn't have made much difference either way. Through the thick rain little could be seen but the dull brown of the mud and the hazy grey of the distance, even noise seemed muffled.

The lone traveler on the road was soaked to the bone, tired, and sore. Her once pretty scarlet dress was now muddy and torn at the bottom, the weight of it's wet material threatened to overcome its weary owner. The girl's black shawl offered little warmth and her long wavy blond hair stuck to her face, neck, and back. The only sounds she could hear were the pounding of the rain and the chattering of her teeth.

Whatever the weather or the pain, it didn't matter. Anything was better than the hell she'd spent the last six years of her life living in. Her mind was a mess of thoughts, regrets, and hopes. She'd taken nothing with her but the clothes on her back and the money she had, she now wished she'd taken time to grab things she could have sold, jewelry or clothing, anything but herself. And she was sick of selling that.

London wasn't too far off; she'd seen it on a sign a few hours back. It was perfect. Big, loud, and a city where she could build a new life. Where prostitution would be a choice, one she hoped to never make. All she wanted now was a place out of the rain and a warm bath. Still, she was thankful to the farmer who had allowed her to ride in his carriage for the first little while of her journey.

Time seemed to stretch out forever and the only way to tell the day was passing was by the slight darkening of the sky that indicated nightfall. It wasn't until then that the smell of dirt and smog reached her nose. The first sign of a new beginning, and what a sign it was; the smell of decay and pollution.

The scent gave life to her step, the idea that her destination was so close she could smell it. She had no idea what she would do when she got there or where she would go, her plan wasn't fully formulated but at this point it didn't matter. Any escape was still an escape.

Everything was spinning by the time she reached the dark alleys of the city. She felt sick and tired but she'd been through worse. She had no idea how long she'd walked or how far into the city she'd gone before she couldn't go anymore. Everyone had their breaking point.

Coughing, spluttering she let her back rest against a cold brick wall, the side of a building she guessed, and slid down. The alleys were sufficiently quieter than the open country, enough so that she could make out the sound of footsteps through the chattering of her teeth. To how many people they belonged she couldn't tell. It seemed as though the world had eloped itself in a dreamy haze that made her want to close her heavy eyelids.

"'Eh, look at this." A girl's voice said, she sounded loud against the soft noise of the rain. "'Aven't seen 'er around before, 'ave ya?"

"No." This voice was far deeper than the girls and belonged to a man; the short syllable didn't lend a whole lot of information to his person or disposition. "It looks live we should 'ave." There was a pause in the conversation before the girl spoke up again.

"Should we bring 'er to Fagin's?" The girl asked. "She won't make it out 'ere. Looks sick." Another pause stretched out before a response came. "Yeah, come on." After that there was a great deal of movement which caused the hazy quality of her vision to blacken and her consciousness to slip away.

* * *

For a long while after that it seemed as though things moved in odd sequences. She'd dream about the whorehouse hear the boss calling her name. Other times she was laying on a bed of old blankets by a fire, a girl around her age sitting there beside her. Sometimes there was an old man or many boys and every once and a while she'd catch bits of their conversation.

Finally her fever broke and she came too. There was the girl her slight body towards the fire. She wore a dress so purple that it seemed black in the flickering light, her skin was pale and her hair was a dark brown which she wore rather short. She seemed a bit dirty.

After a moment a man walked into the room. He wore a top hat on his head and his brown hair was a bit long. Although she only managed to see his face for a moment she noticed he had an upturned nose and big brown eyes, quick looking. He was tall but thin, with torn pants and worn boots. He wore a yellow shirt and an old suit jacket with tails. In his hand he held a mug.

"Beatrix?" He said, it was the voice of the man in the streets. "Fagin said to give 'er this when she comes to." The girl nodded and turned slightly to take the cup. "I know why ya want 'er to get better but yer never this bad when one o' the boys is sick."

"Reminds me o' me sister, I guess." She said now turning fully to the bed, obviously noticing that its occupant was now awake by the change in her expression.

"Dodger, she's up!" Beatrix said making a start for the bed, the one called Dodger stood back. "'Ere, drink a bit o' this and then tell us who ya are." Beatrix said handing her the drink. After a few sips color began to seep back into the girls face making her look rather pretty and more like a person compared to the ghastly white corpse she had been.

"What's yer name?" Beatrix asked, bright cerulean eyes anxious. "Alice." She said, her voice hoarse from lack of use. The fact that she was speaking or some other thing seemed to interest the man called Dodger and he moved forward and knelt down next to Beatrix. "Do ya feel well enough to tell us what 'appened?" He asked.

Alice didn't know if she would have told them if she'd been perfectly healthy. What reason did she have to rust them other then that they'd brought her off the streets? From past experience it wasn't a good idea. So it was probably the fact that she wasn't actually well enough that made her tell them in the first place.

"I won't give names." She said with an accent the seemed to startle the two; it was still English, but much more proper than the cockney they were used to. Her green eyes narrowed slightly as she said it, suspicious. Neither of them spoke so she continued.

"I come from a city few days travel from here. Never met my father, don't know which of the whores was my mum." Alice's voice was slowly beginning to lose the harshness of lack of use. "When you're born to a whore house, you work for it. Started me when I was ten. The money was okay, and they clothed me in nice stuff but it was terrible. I hated it. Any sane person would." Alice stopped and coughed.

"Don't push yerself." Beatrix said taking back the mug. "The name's Beatrix, I'ma taken care o' ya for a while."

"An' I'm Jack Dawkins." Dodger said and as he opened his mouth again Beatrix rolled her eyes. "Better know among me more h'intimate friends as The Artful Dodger."

"She don't need the whole damn introduction, Dodger. Go find Fagin an' tell 'im she's gettin' better."

Beatrix, although she seemed younger than the Dodger, had a bit of a maternal air a round her. It didn't seem to mesh with the rest of her personality so Alice assumed it must have been something she'd acquired recently.

"Ya try an' go back to sleep. Once yer better we can really talk." Her instructions weren't hard to follow. And soon Alice had fallen back to sleep and this time remained dreamless.

* * *

**Alright, there we are. I hope you liked it, I'm not expecting a ton of reviews since it seems the fan base for this is so small but it would really make my day to hear what you think. I'll even respond in the next chappie.**

**Regular reviewers get kisses from the character of their choice. ^^**


End file.
